


i am the warrior

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [24]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Wynonna pauses, frowning at her. “What’s your beef?”Nicole sits up a little. “What do you mean?”“You get this look on your face every time someone talks about school,” Wynonna says. “Right there. It’s like… like you found the dirty pair of gym socks Doc keeps in his locker.”





	i am the warrior

**Author's Note:**

> We're back in 1985 and it's the first day of high school. Except, that's the worst.

**“The Warrior” Scandal, 1984  
** _ Shoot at the walls of heartache; bang bang. I am the warrior. Yes, I am the warrior, and victory is mine. If you survive, the warrior, the warrior. _

Curtis puts a vanilla milkshake down in front of her with a  _ thud _ . 

Nicole looks up from the Highlights she’s scribbling in - an old 1982 copy, all about pets, that she’s using to help convince her mom to get them a dog. She frowns. “I didn’t order a shake.”

Curtis smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “You’ve been sitting here, pouting at the counter since the girls left. If a milkshake can’t make you happy, I don’t know what will.”

Nicole’s shoulders slump. “Sorry.” She suddenly sits up, looking around The Patch. “Is that why no one is sitting at the counter?”

Curtis laughs, low and warm. “Oh, no, girl. People not eating at the counter has nothing to do with  _ you _ .” He hooks a finger over his thumb. “It’s Bobo, murdering those cats.”

Nicole snorts. “I think he’s singing.”

Curtis pulls back, his eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “ _ That’s _ what that is?”

Nicole smiles, ducking her head. 

“There we go,” Curtis says softly. “A smile.”

Nicole sighs. “I’m just  _ bored _ .”

She really  _ is _ bored, but she’s angry, too. Angry that the money her dad promised her mom hasn’t come in yet, and she couldn’t go school clothes shopping with Wynonna, Waverly, and Gus at the big mall in the city. They invited her, but she didn’t want to go and spend the whole day carrying Waverly’s bags like she ends up doing every time they run to the grocery store for her mom or Gus. Waiting for Waverly to try on regular clothes takes the entire Side A of Journey’s  _ Frontiers _ cassette, but  _ school _ clothes would take the entire tape, and she’d probably have to listen to “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” twice. 

“You didn’t want to go with them?” Curtis asks, leaning on the counter.

Nicole shrugs and pushes at the bottom of the milkshake glass, inching it over the countertop. 

Someone steps up to the counter next to her, leaning down on his elbows.

“I’m here for a pickup.”

Curtis smiles. “Hey, David. Let me get it for you.”

David looks down at Nicole and smiles. “Afternoon.”

Nicole nods back at him and pulls her milkshake back towards herself.

David peers down at it. “Vanilla, huh?”

“It’s my favorite,” Nicole says. 

David pushes his hair out of his eyes. It’s long, almost like Doc’s. Curtis comes back out of the kitchen with a paper bag, putting it down on the counter as he reads the slip. David pushes some bills across the counter and tucks the bag under one arm.

“Say hi to your mom for me, won’t you?” Curtis asks.

David lifts the bag up a little. “I’m taking this over to the station now. She’ll be happy you asked after her.” He looks at Nicole and winks. “Enjoy that shake.”

Nicole watches him leave in the reflection of the mirror behind the counter. When she looks back up, Curtis is staring at her, his mouth turned up at the corner. “What?” she asks, shifting in her seat. “I’m fine.”

Curtis seems to know it’s a lie, though, because he puts a hand down, blocking the path of the glass and forcing her to look up. “You know, with Waverly doing Junior Cheerleading, she can’t-”

“Don’t think this conversation is over,” Gus says loudly as she comes through the front door of The Patch.

Wynonna scowls. “Why do you even  _ care _ what kind of shirts I wear?”

“I care when I’m the one spending money on them,” Gus fires back. “Why can’t you buy something… less black. Like Waverly! She picked out  _ colors _ .”

Nicole sees Wynonna’s jaw set in the mirror, the way it does before she starts yelling about something, and she spins on her stool, jumping off and landing hard on the floor. The sound of the heavy Timberland boots she took from Nathan’s closet catches Wynonna’s attention.

“You’re  _ still _ here?” Wynonna asks, turning away from Gus.

Over Wynonna’s shoulder, Nicole can see Gus inhale slowly, like she’s trying to calm herself down, and shake her head softly. Nicole watches her eyes close for a second, and then she straightens up, moving around Nicole and Waverly and heading towards the office.

Curtis sighs softly.

“I didn’t do anything,” Wynonna insists quickly. “I  _ didn’t _ .”

“Wynonna,” Curtis says gently. “What’s the  _ only _ thing I ever ask you to do?”

Wynonna scowls and looks across The Patch’s dining room. She glances back at Curtis and huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Be nice to Gus,” she mumbles.

“Be nice to Gus,” Curtis repeats. “She’s trying, honey. You need to, too.”

“She doesn’t  _ get  _ me,” Wynonna whines. 

“My momma didn’t _ get me  _ either,” Curtis says. “But we were still nice to each other.”

Wynonna’s eyes harden. “She’s  _ not _ my mom.”

Curtis pauses, his forehead wrinkled as he stares at Wynonna for a minute. He sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “No,” he agrees. “She’s not. But she’s  _ trying _ . Because she loves you.”

Wynonna’s face softens for just a minute, and then she glares at Curtis again. “Whatever,” she grumbles.

Curtis rounds the counter and stops in front of Wynonna, kissing the top of her head. “You’ll show me what you got later?”

“Lots of  _ black _ ,” Wynonna says dryly. She sighs at the look on Curtis’s face. “Yeah, okay.”

Curtis points a finger at Nicole. “Cheer her up, would you? She’s driving my customers away.”

“Hey!” Nicole protests, her cheeks red. “You said it was Bobo’s singing.”

Curtis winks at her. “It’s both, girl. Drink your milkshake and keep my girl out of trouble.”

Nicole salutes, immediately regretting it when Wynonna snorts. She shoves her hand in her pocket and kicks at the black tile she’s standing on. She opens her mouth, going to ask Wynonna what kind of shirts she got, and if she got the leather jacket they saw in the Sears catalog, but the bell above the door goes off and Nicole looks up.

“I Ran” by Flock of Seagulls is on the jukebox, but Nicole still feels like she can hear Van Halen’s slow synth starting as Waverly pushes through the door, fighting a handful of bags as she tries to fit through the frame.

“You guys just  _ left _ me out there,” Waverly grumbles as she gets closer. “Couldn’t you have waited to argue until  _ after _ I got all of my bags out of the car?”

“Couldn’t you have bought less?” Wynonna fires back.

Waverly looks up from the bag she’s holding, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be a dickweed.”

“You’re not supposed to swear,” Wynonna says.

“That’s not a swear. It’s the truth,” Waverly says, stepping forward.

“It’s a  _ swear word _ . Gus would holler at you if she knew you-”

Nicole steps forward, shielding Waverly with her body as Wynonna takes a big step forward. “Can we just leave?” she asks Wynonna. “I’ve been here all day.”

Wynonna pauses, her eyes clearing as she looks Nicole up and down. “That’s not my fault.” She holds up one of the shopping bags. “But let’s go out back and go through what I got. I need a good first-day-of-high-school outfit. I want to make sure I make a  _ statement _ .”

“Like what?” Waverly mumbles. “That you’re a roadie with a rock band?”

Wynonna presses a hand to her chest. “That would be the best. If it meant I could get out of this crappy town.”

Waverly frowns. “Don’t say that.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t-”

Nicole grabs the bag from Wynonna, cutting her off again. “Let’s go out back. Just block your ears when we go through the kitchen. Bobo is  _ singing _ .”

Wynonna grimaces. “Is  _ that _ what that is?”

Nicole starts across the dining room and into the kitchen, wincing as Bobo hits a high note. He spins in a circle, his high top sneakers squeaking against the mats he’s standing on, and uses the spatula in his hand like a microphone, his eyes squeezed closed. 

Wynonna giggles and pushes at the small of Nicole’s back, through the screen door and out towards the stack of milk crates they keep. She huffs as she sits down, dropping her bags into the dirt.

Nicole checks for a clean milk crate, brushing some dirt off of one before she sits down, handing Wynonna the bag she’s holding. “So, what did you get?”

Wynonna grins. “ _ Lots _ of black.” She starts pulling shirts out, laying them down over her knee, layering one after the other. 

Nicole counts to ten before she loses track of how many there are, but she knows they all have band logos on them and they’re two sizes too big for Wynonna. “You got those at Sears?”

Wynonna snorts. “As if.” She keeps pulling shirts out before tossing the bag across the back lot. “I went to that secondhand store, the one near the end of the mall, by the food court.”

Nicole’s eyes widen.

“All it took was sending Waverly into the girl’s section and telling her that she could get a crop top,” Wynonna says proudly.

Nicole’s jaw drops slowly, her brain trying to work around the image of Waverly in a crop top. “But… but Gus said  _ definitely _ not.” She remembers, because she was at dinner that night, when Waverly had laid out her reasoning for deserving to own a few crop tops.

_ Just because Stephanie Jones has one doesn’t mean you should _ , was Gus’s firm answer.

Wynonna’s eyes sparkle as she looks up. “And she didn’t. But Gus and Waverly got into an argument and didn’t even see me slip out of Sears.” She straightens up, puffing out her chest proudly. “And I didn’t get receipts so we couldn’t return them.”

Nicole sighs and shakes her head.

“It was  _ my _ money. Curtis said I could get what  _ I _ wanted,” Wynonna says defensively. She pauses. “Plus, I got you a Survivor t-shirt.”

Nicole looks up hesitantly. “You did?”

“Of course I did!” Wynonna fishes through the pile on her lap, yanking one of the black shirts out from the bottom. She throws it at Nicole, catching her in the face.

Nicole holds the shirt up, stretching it out. It’s a Survivor 1982  _ Going the Distance _ tour shirt. She grins. “This is really for me?”

Wynonna shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t make it weird.”

Nicole pulls the shirt tight against her chest and glares at Wynonna. “I’m not making it weird.”

Wynonna ignores her and fishes something else out of the bag at her feet, holding up a black boot. “Look at  _ these _ .”

Nicole’s eyes widen again. “What are those?”

“Altama army surplus boots,” Wynonna says. “I found them. They’re a size too big.” She frowns softly. “But I’ll grow into them.”

Nicole stares at them, envious. “They’re clutch,” she whispers.

“I’ll let you borrow them sometime,” Wynonna offers.

Nicole scoffs; Wynonna will never let her borrow them, but she won’t be upset about it. She’s pretty sure that Nathan won’t want these boots back when he realizes she’s been wearing them for three weeks straight. She leans back against the wall of The Patch, watching Wynonna catalogue her shirts, laying each one out across the extra milk crates, muttering to herself.

“I think I’ll wear this one,” Wynonna decides, pointing at a Ratt  _ Today The Cellar… Tomorrow The World _ tour shirt. 

Nicole frowns. “Wear it where?”

“To the first day of school,” Wynonna says. “Duh.”

Nicole’s stomach turns over.  _ The first day of school _ . She’d been trying to avoid it, but it’s all anyone will talk about. August is winding down, and when she rode her bike past Purgatory High School last week, she saw Mr. Smith’s station wagon parked out front, easels and drop cloths hanging out of the hatch. Ms. Daisy, one of the math teachers Nathan wouldn’t shut up about, came into The Patch the other day and told her that she was excited to see Nicole’s name on her class roster; she  _ loved _ having Nathan in class.

Nicole is a little worried about Ms. Daisy; Nathan is the worst.

“Sure,” she mumbles.

Wynonna pauses, frowning at her. “What’s your beef?”

Nicole sits up a little. “What do you mean?”

“You get this look on your face every time someone talks about school,” Wynonna says. “Right there. It’s like… like you found the dirty pair of gym socks Doc keeps in his locker.”

Nicole gags a little. “That’s grody.”

“It’s your face, not mine.” Wynonna starts balling all of her shirts up and tossing them back into the paper shopping bags. 

Nicole sighs heavily and jumps down off her milk crate, batting Wynonna’s hands away and taking the shirts back out of the bag. She folds them slowly and precisely, making sure each sleeve matches the other before she makes a crease. They won’t hold; the fabric is so worn she’s surprised she’s not looking through it, but it makes her feel better to try.

“What’s so scary about high school, anyway?” Wynonna asks after a minute. “I think it’s going to be the  _ best _ .” She sits down on a crate, stretching her legs out in front of her and putting her hands behind her head. She leans back against the side of the building. “No more middle school teachers. I get to see Doc every day. Like, what’s better than  _ that _ ?”

“There’s a lot of things  _ worse _ ,” Nicole mumbles.

“Oh, come on,” Wynonna says.

Nicole shakes her head. “Nathan said the teachers are, like,  _ extra _ hard. And there’s assigned seating in all of his classes and they go alphabetically, which means I’m going to be stuck next to  _ Champ, _ and they start splitting classes up by people who can do math and people who can’t and-”

Wynonna puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles loudly. Nicole hears a dog bark somewhere down the block.

“Cool it,” Wynonna says. “Your face is the same color as your hair.”

Nicole breathes out, blowing her hair out of her face. She tucks it behind her ears. “I just… Nathan said it’s really hard.”

Wynonna shrugs. “So Waverly will help us with our homework.”

“And the building is ten times bigger than the middle school.”

Wynonna narrows her eyes. “I think that’s a lie.”

Nicole shakes her head firmly. “No, it is. There’s  _ two floors _ , Wynonna.” She puts down the shirt she’s in the middle of folding and starts pacing - one, two, three, four, turn sharply, and back again. “What if I’m late for class? What if I walk into the wrong room and everyone laughs at me. You know we have study hall? And it might be with  _ seniors _ .”

Her brain keeps working, spitting out reasons why she’s not excited to start high school.  _ The other kids are bigger than I am. I don’t even remember going to school with them.  _ _ Jimmy Byers tried to put Nathan in a toilet last year. What if I don’t iron my shirt enough? The Revenants and the Blue Devils fought in the parking lot at the end of the year, and Doc limped for a week after he tried to help out Wyatt Aper _ .

_ Waverly won’t be there _ , she thinks.

“There you are,” Mercedes sighs, pushing through the screen door and coming out of the kitchen. “I’ve been sitting inside for forever. Your aunt was doing that thing she does.”

“The glare?” Wynonna asks.

Mercedes rolls her eyes. “How come she only ever glares at  _ me _ ?” Mercedes waves a hand at Nicole. “She’s nice to you.”

“I’m a nice person,” Nicole says slowly.

Mercedes folds her arms over her chest. The hem of her shirt rides up, showing the fishnet camisole she’s wearing underneath it. She’s got matching fishnet stockings on and denim shorts over them. The stockings disappear into heels Nicole isn’t sure she could even stand up in.

Nicole frowns. “Who’re you supposed to be? Madonna?”

Mercedes scoffs. “As if. I’m  _ Mercedes _ .”

Nicole puts her hands up in surrender. “Whatever.”

“Nicole is nervous to start high school,” Wynonna says loudly.

Nicole’s head snaps up. “Can it, Wynonna,” she hisses. 

Mercedes arches an eyebrow slowly. “You’re afraid of high school, Little Haught.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nicole says, her back teeth clenched together.

Mercedes stares at her for a moment, her lips pursed. “I’ll come up with a nickname for you eventually,” she promises. 

“Aces,” Nicole mutters. 

“What’re you nervous about?” Mercedes asks. “It’s just like every other year you were in school.”

“No, it’s not,” Nicole argues.

Mercedes narrows her eyes and stares at Nicole for a minute. She sighs heavily. “Is it the pool?”

“The pool?” Nicole repeats. She frowns. “What pool?”

Mercedes looks at Wynonna for a long moment. “The pool,” she says again, slower. 

Wynonna sits up abruptly. “Right, the pool.”

Nicole looks wildly between Wynonna and Mercedes. “There’s a pool?” she asks, her voice hoarse.

“Totally,” Mercedes says. “Do you know how many freshman have gotten lost looking for it?”

Nicole swallows heavily. “You’re kidding.”

“As Nathan,” Mercedes says. “He probably knows exactly where it is.”

“But why wouldn’t he tell me about it?” Nicole asks. “He told me about Ms. Lucado’s killer eyesight and how she can spot a note all the way across a classroom.”

Mercedes shrugs. “It’s supposed to be a secret.” She leans in closer, her breath hot against Nicole’s cheek. “But there’s a secret competition where the freshman who finds the pool first gets their name on the board at Shorty’s, behind the Pac Man machine.”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Mercedes nods firmly. “The freshman who go looking for it, though, and don’t find it?” She stares at Nicole, not blinking.

“What happens to them?” Nicole asks, afraid to speak louder than a whisper.

“They get lost in the building,” Mercedes continues, her voice low. “They slip and fall or get locked in a closet and no one ever hears from them again. Like Gary Smith.”

Nicole frowns. “Gary Smith?”

“He was friends with Marty, the bank’s assistant manager’s kid? But he went looking for the pool and just… disappeared. Some people say that Marty killed him and then went to jail, you know.”

Nicole’s frown deepens. “Marty… Didn’t he join the Royal Canadian Air Force? I think we had a parade for him when he left. And Gary Smith’s parents moved to Vancouver.”

Mercedes’s shoulders slump. “I thought everyone forgot about that.”

“You’re… You’re  _ kidding _ ,” Nicole breathes out.

Mercedes laughs, throwing her head back. Her hair barely moves from all of the hairspray in it. “Of course I’m kidding. We don’t even have a swim team, dweeb.”

Nicole’s face flushes red. “Dickweed,” she mutters under her breath. 

Mercedes sighs. “Whatever.” She turns to Wynonna. “Can we go now? Jonas is supposed to meet us at Shorty’s.”

Wynonna wrinkles her nose. “Why do you even like that guy?”

“It’s not for his face,” Mercedes says with a wink.

Nicole swallows back the breakfast rising in her throat. “That’s… grody to the max.”

Mercedes winks at her. “Are you crunchy?”

“Am I  _ what?” _

“Jealous,” Wynonna translates. She glares at Mercedes. “Stop trying to make ‘crunchy’ happen. It’s not going to happen.” She shoves all of the carefully folded shirts into the paper bags with ‘ _ Lefty’s Leftovers’ _ on the front of it. “I told Doc I’d meet him there, too.”

Mercedes frowns. “Doesn’t he hang around Wyatt Aper?”

“So what?” Wynonna asks slowly. “He’s always hung around Wyatt."

Mercedes shrugs a shoulder. “I’m just asking. Cool your jets.” She pauses. “You know Jonas is a Revenant.”

Wynonna snorts. “I can’t believe that hoser got in with the Revenants.”

“Wyatt Aper is a Blue Devil,” Mercedes points out.

Wynonna shrugs. “I just want to play video games and trip couples while they skate. Does it matter what color bandana your boyfriend is wearing?”

Mercedes seems to think about it for a moment. “I guess not,” she decides. “But if they start to argue, I’m leaving.” She starts towards the building, waiting near the back door.

“Deal,” Wynonna says. She turns and looks at Nicole. “You coming?”.

Nicole shakes her head. “My mom needs me to make dinner tonight. She’s working a double.”

Wynonna frowns. “But-”

“And I don’t like Jonas anyway,” Nicole mumbles. “He smells like fish all of the time.” She glances at Mercedes, leaning against the building by the kitchen door, inspecting her nails. “You’re really going to go hang out with her?”

Wynonna sighs. “I’m going to go hang out with Doc. Mercedes is just going to be there. You could come, too?”

Nicole shakes her head. 

“What’s wrong?” Wynonna asks, lowering her voice.

Nicole looks down at the ground, frowning at the film of dust that’s settled over the top of her boots. She doesn’t know what’s wrong, but her stomach is in knots and she thinks the back of her neck is sweating and she doesn’t want to be stuck in Shorty’s with Jonas and Mercedes. She’s not even sure Mercedes  _ likes _ her and Shorty’s smells like feet and Jonas smells like fish and Wynonna will disappear into a corner with Doc for forever and-

“Fine,” Wynonna sighs. “Don’t tell me.”

“I’ll come over later tonight,” Nicole offers. “There’s a Twilight Zone marathon on tonight.”

Wynonna nods slowly. “Okay. But don’t let Waverly sit on my side of the couch.”

“Scout’s Honor,” Nicole promises.

Wynonna rolls her eyes, but bumps her softly in the shoulder as she brushes by her. 

Nicole sits back down on a milk crate and sighs. She presses the heel of her palm into her side, hoping to make the pressure go away. It makes it worse, spreading it across her ribs and up her chest. She lets go, breathing out hard. 

Waverly slips out the back door and down the steps. “Hey,” she says softly.

Nicole looks up at the sound of her voice and then back down again. “Hey.”

“You didn’t want to go with Wynonna?”

“I didn’t want to go with Mercedes,” Nicole corrects. “Ever since she got…” She trails off, her face flushed. “Ever since she hit puberty, she’s… different. How was shopping?”

Waverly shrugs her shoulder, sitting down on the milk crate next to Nicole. Their arms brush as she slides a little closer, and there’s a different pain in Nicole’s stomach now - a knot, forming just behind her belly button. Their skin touches, just near their elbows, and Nicole smiles hesitantly. Waverly looks at her out of the corner of her eye and smiles.

“You’re nervous about high school,” Waverly says quietly.

Nicole’s body stiffens. “No,” she lies. She glances at Waverly and signs. “Yes.”

“Why?” Waverly reaches over and picks at a loose thread on the hem of Nicole’s shorts. Her fingernails scrape against Nicole’s kneecap and Nicole shivers. “It’s just school.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder. “It’s a whole new place. 

_ You won’t be there _ , she thinks.

“And I’m…” Nicole sighs. “I’m tired of change. Everything is changing all of the time.”

Waverly is quiet for a minute, still tugging lightly at the loose thread on Nicole’s shorts. Nicole follows the bend of her fingers and catches on the blue and pink nail polish she’s wearing. “It’ll be weird not being in the same building as you,” Waverly admits.

Nicole looks at Waverly again, her eyes wide. “Really?”

Waverly smiles crookedly at her. “ _ Duh _ .”

Nicole ducks her head, feeling her cheeks flush a little. She rubs at the back of her neck and shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, I’ll miss you, too.”

“But you’re still nervous,” Waverly continues. She lets go of the thread and picks up Nicole’s free hand instead, turning it over in her lap. She lets her finger trace over the lines in Nicole’s palm.

“About a lot of things,” Nicole admits, the words sticking in her throat. “What if I get lost? What if my teachers hate me because Nathan was the worst?” Her eyes widen. “What if they hate me because they  _ loved _ him? What if the seniors make us do that freshman march and they throw things at me? What if they try to put me in a toilet?”

“A toilet,” Waverly repeats.

“It happened to Nathan.”

Waverly nods slowly. “Well, then we better figure out a battle plan.”

Nicole frowns. “A battle plan?”

Waverly smiles widely, her eyes already glazing over. “Let me get my notebook.” She jumps up from the milk crate and claps her hands together, spinning in a circle. Her skirt flutters back down around her legs. “We’ll figure this out together.”

“Together,” Nicole repeats dumbly as Waverly skips towards the screen door, disappearing into the kitchen. She sighs and drops her head into her hands.

That knot in her stomach tightens even more.

 

-

Nicole is barely through the door of the McCreadys’ house when Waverly grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her up the stairs. She keeps pulling, down the hallway and into Waverly’s room. Waverly slams the door behind them, pressing her back up against it, breathing heavily. 

“What’s your-”

“Waverly!” Gus yells up the stairs. “What’s going on up there?”

Waverly pulls the door open a crack and yells into the hallway. “Nothing!”

There’s a pause before Gus shouts up at them again. “That Hardy boy better not be upstairs with you.”

Nicole sits down on the end of Waverly’s bed, picking at her thumbnail.

Waverly’s cheeks flush red. “He’s not,” she calls weakly. She closes the door softly and turns back around, her hands twisting in front of her. “Champ hasn’t been up here.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder. “Who cares?”

“I’m just saying, he hasn’t.”

Nicole looks up, eyes narrowed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Waverly repeats.

Nicole exhales slowly, the silence stretching between them. Nicole gets through the first verse of Loverboy’s “Hot Girls In Love” before she sighs. “Why am  _ I _ here?”

Waverly startles, pushing off the door and crossing the room quickly. She veers at the last second, brushing by Nicole and picking a notebook up off her desk. She flips through it, eyes narrowed as she studies what she’s looking at.

“I have plans,” she announces.

Nicole frowns. “What?”

“For how to handle high school.”

Nicole groans. “Waverly.”

“I told you I was going to help you,” Waverly says. “So I spent the last few days coming up with different ideas.”

Nicole spent the last few days stonily avoiding Wynonna, mad that she played along with Mercedes’s stupid pool joke. Instead, she watched Nathan fix his bicycle, handing him tools when he asked for them. She tagged along when Waverly went to junior cheerleading practice, lying on the bleachers and fooling around with Nathan’s Rubix cube, trying to avoid staring as Waverly practiced her high kicks. She laid on her bed with her Walkman next to her, wearing down the ribbon in Def Leppard’s  _ High N’ Dry _ cassette. 

Wynonna finally cornered her in The Patch, wringing her hands in front of her. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Nicole shrugged a shoulder and looked across the dining room, to where Waverly was balancing a tray of glasses out in front of her, staring at the cups as she maneuvered around tables. “Whatever,” she said.

Wynonna sighed. “Mercedes was kind of a jerk.”

Nicole looked back at Wynonna. “So were you.”

Wynonna nodded. “She’s just really cool,” she gushed. “I forget sometimes that she’s a richie.”

“Having money doesn’t mean she needs be to be rude,” Nicole argued. 

Wynonna nodded again. “I know. I just get…”

“Impressed with her,” Nicole muttered.

“Exactamundo,” Wynonna said, snapping her fingers. “Shorty’s would have been more fun with you. Doc and Jonas spent the whole time arguing about who won more races at The Ghost Triangle.” She lowers her voice. “Hanging out with you would have been better.”

“Well,  _ duh _ ,” Nicole breathed out.

Wynonna grinned widely at her. “Wanna go see how many times we can restart the song Bobo is singing along to before he throws his spatula into the fryer again?”

Nicole had forgotten about high school again, and how the days just kept coming and the start of school just kept getting closer. Waverly mentions that she’s been coming up with plans and Nicole’s stomach flops. The saliva in her mouth tastes sour. She shifts on Waverly’s bed, sliding back a little.

“Waverly,” she whines.

Waverly puts her hand on her hip, eyes narrowed. “Don’t you want to hear them?”

Nicole looks at Waverly for a long moment before she sighs. “Yeah, sure.”

Waverly smiles brightly. “Clutch.” She looks down at her notebook and straightens her shoulders, stretching out her neck a little to look taller. “First idea: you move to the States.”

Nicole scowls. Her first thought is that her dad lives in the States. Her dad and his new wife live in the States. “The States,” she repeats. “You want me to do what? Leave my mom? Leave Nathan?”

Waverly winces. “Ooookay, maybe-”

“ _ No _ ,” Nicole growls.

Waverly steps forward, dropping her notebook onto her bed and sits down next to Nicole. She puts her hand on Nicole’s knee. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. 

Nicole shrugs, looking away across the room. That knot is back in her stomach. It tightens as Waverly’s hand slides higher up her leg, the tips of her fingers slipping under the hem of Nicole’s shorts.

Waverly squeezes again. “It was a stupid idea.”

“He called a few weeks ago,” Nicole says abruptly. “I didn’t talk to him. I told Nathan I had to do homework. He wanted to wish a good start to the school year. In  _ July _ .”

Waverly pulls a leg up under her body. “Is that why you’re nervous about high school?”

Nicole shrugs again. 

“He’s a dick-”

“Weed,” Nicole finishes. “I know.” Her lips twitch in a smile. “You said that already.”

“I meant it,” Waverly says firmly, leaning in towards Nicole. Her eyes are so close that Nicole feels herself going dizzy trying to look at them. That knot is so tight she can barely breathe. “He doesn’t deserve you, and if I ever see him, I’m going to-”

“What?” Nicole asks, laughing softly.

“I’ll give him a piece of my mind,” Waverly says.

Nicole raises an eyebrow, smiling. “That’s almost as scary as  _ The Shining _ .”

Waverly pulls her lips back in something that’s supposed to look terrifying. “ _ Here’s Johnny! _ ”

Nicole laughs and shoves at Waverly’s shoulder, swallowing heavily when Waverly’s hand slides across her bare leg and off her knee. She pulls the notebook out from underneath her and looks down at it, giving Nicole a sheepish smile. “I have more ideas,” she says slowly.

Nicole sighs softly, searching Waverly’s face. She sighs and tangles her fingers in the end of Waverly’s shirt, tugging gently. “Come on,” she says. “Tell me.”

Waverly smiles widely and slides in closer, their bare knees bumping. “Well, what about if you just join the Blue Devils?” She rushes to keep talking when Nicole opens her mouth. “I heard they give you a pocketknife and you would look good in that bandana.” She reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Nicole’s shirt. “You look good in blue.”

“Yeah?” Nicole asks. She shakes her head quickly. “No. No, I can’t join the Blue Devils. I want to be a cop someday, not the robber.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Who says you can’t be a cop even if you join the Blue Devils?”

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “Do  _ you _ know any Blue Devils that went on to be cops?”

Waverly sits up a little straighter. “I don’t have the right information to answer that question.”

“That’s a no,” Nicole mutters, laying back. She puts her hands under her head and inhales deeply. The knot in her stomach feels weird, lying down like this, but Waverly moves in a little closer, her thigh pressed against Nicole’s.

“I need a day to compile the statistics before we can explore that,” Waverly says stiffly.

“Compile,” Nicole repeats.

“That’s what I said,” Waverly says. “Do you want to hear the rest of my ideas?”

Nicole props herself up on her elbows. “Okay, okay. Go.”

Waverly waits another second before she looks down at her notebook. “You can buy a leather jacket and spend the whole first week acting like Danny Zuko when he first realizes that Sandy goes to his school now.”

“And… the whole ninth grade is Sandy?”

Waverly frowns. “I just thought you’d look good in a leather jacket,” she admits. 

Nicole’s face burns. She drops back against the pillow. “Uh… Yeah?”

“Totally aces,” Waverly says, looking at her notebook again. 

Every part of Nicole’s body feels too hot to touch, but Waverly is pressed against her thigh and she feels like she’s vibrating, about to liftoff the bed. She feels like Buzz Aldrin on the moon, floating weightlessly. 

_ Waverly thinks I would look good in a leather jacket _ , she repeats over and over in her head.  _ Waverly thinks I would look good _ .

“Did you hear me?” Waverly asks loudly.

Nicole blinks hard. “What did-” she tries, the words stuck in the back of her throat. She coughs and starts again. “What did you say? 

Waverly sighs. “I said, you can just stay back in the 8th grade with me.” She bites down on her bottom lip. “Me and Chrissy, I mean.”

“Stay back,” Nicole repeats, squinting at the ceiling. “But I already got my report card.”

Waverly frowns. “I didn’t think about that.” 

“I wish you had thought about it before,” Nicole murmurs.

Waverly drops her notebook off the side of the bed, reaching up to her nightstand. She has a small clock radio that shows the time in bright blinking numbers. She pushes the power button down, turning on the radio. It’s already tuned to 88.3 and Prince’s “When Doves Cry” is playing. Nicole frowns; she doesn’t get Prince. Waverly loves him and knows all of the words to “Little Red Corvette,” and she tried to teach Nicole all of the steps to the cheer Stephanie’s mom choreographed to “1999.”

Waverly hums happily and lies down next to Nicole, elbowing her until Nicole moves over and makes room for Waverly.

“We should have started planning this last year,” Waverly admits. “I could have had Jeremy forge your report card. He knows how to use invisible ink.”

Nicole snorts. “You think that stuff works?”

“I know it does,” Waverly boasts. She shimmies until her head is resting on Nicole’s arm. “He showed me.”

“He’s kind of a dweeb,” Nicole says.

Waverly pokes her hard in the side. “He’s nice.”

“He’s a dweeb,” Nicole repeats. She blocks Waverly’s second poke. “He’s  _ nice _ , but he wears bowties.”

“He says they make him look professional.”

“He’s  _ eleven _ .” 

“He’s ready for a business opportunity,” Waverly corrects.

Nicole snorts, turning her head. Waverly’s hair is everywhere, but Nicole ignores the way it tickles her nose and just tries to practice breathing.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if we were in the same grade?” Waverly asks, her voice a whisper.

“Yeah,” Nicole whispers back. “Totally clutch.”

“Aces,” Waverly agrees. She rests her hand on Nicole’s stomach, her fingers flexing. “Next year we’ll be in the same school again.”

“That’s a whole school year,” Nicole complains. She slowly rests her hand on top of Waverly’s.

“But then you’ll be a sophomore and you can tell me all the things I need to know to be a freshman,” Waverly points out. She traces something on Nicole’s stomach, a shape Nicole can’t quite make out. “Do you have to go hang out with Wynonna?”

Nicole shakes her head. “Doc wanted to take her out on this motorbike he put together.”

“Clutch,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole swallows hard. “Aces.”

 

-

“Nicole! Phone!” her mom yells up the stairs.

Nicole jumps up from her bed and starts down the stairs. She stops and turns back, sprinting into her room to shut off the iron, warming up on the board near her desk. Nathan’s room is empty when she passes it, but he’s probably downstairs, eating. He’s always eating these days. 

She rounds the bottom of the staircase and makes too wide of a turn. The couch is in her way, but she plants her hand on the back and jumps it in one, clean movement. The phone is sitting on the table in the kitchen, reciever up in the air, and Nathan is reaching for it. She ducks under his arm and scoops it up, cradling it against her chest.

“Hey,” Nathan says, his mouth full of food. “I’m going to call someone.”

“Get your own line,” Nicole tells him. She picks a slice of apple off his plate and tosses it into her mouth. “I’m talking to Waverly.”

“You’re  _ always _ talking to Waverly,” Nathan groans.

Nicole feels the back of her neck burn. “Am not.”

“Are to.”

“Am  _ not _ .”

“Are-”

“You two,” her mom scolds as she walks into the kitchen, the newspaper in her hand. “Nathan, don’t talk with food in your mouth. Nicole, if you’re using the phone,  _ use it _ . Waverly has been waiting for close to three minutes, now.”

“Our rule is one ‘Hold On Loosely’,” Nicole says, shrugging a shoulder. 

Nathan rolls his eyes.

“As long as the wait time is not longer than ‘Hold On Loosely,’ then we’re okay,” Nicole explains. “And that song is three minutes and fifty-eight seconds long, so if she’s only been waiting-”

“Can it,” Nathan grumbles. He shoves half a sandwich into his mouth. 

“Mom,” Nicole says.

Her mom sighs. 

“Nicole?” 

Nicole looks down at the phone in her hand and winces. She presses it to her ear. “Sorry, Waves.”

Her mom smiles tiredly and turns back into the living room. Nicole waits until her back is turned before she lifts her middle finger in Nathan’s direction. He sticks his tongue out at her, half-chewed bologna, cheese, and wheat bread spilling out of his mouth. Nicole gags and ducks into the pantry, pulling the accordion door closed behind her. She slides down the cabinet and settles on the floor, the long phone cord tangling around her foot.

“Okay, I’m here,” she breathes into the phone.

Waverly huffs. “I almost had to switch to the 12’’ version of the song because you were cutting it close on the 7’’.”

Nicole leans her head back against the cabinet. “Nathan was being a hoser.”

“He’s always a hoser.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Nicole says. “I keep saying that, but Mom never believes me.”

Waverly laughs softly. She goes quiet for a minute and Nicole listens closely, picking up the sounds of the stereo playing at Waverly’s house, of Curtis singing along, Gus shouting something, and Wynonna yelling something back. She closes her eyes and imagines she’s there, sitting on the couch next to Waverly and watching  _ Family Feud  _ while Wynonna talks on the phone with Doc and Curtis and Gus make dinner. 

It’s one of her favorite things to do; one of her favorite places to be.

“School starts tomorrow,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole swallows heavily. “I know,” she whispers back.

“You’re still nervous.”

“Are you sure I can’t just sneak back into eighth grade? Mr. Mecado liked me in homeroom.”

Waverly giggles. “Mr. Mecado likes everyone.”

Nicole sighs. “I can’t even figure out what to wear.”

There’s a pause on the line and Nicole can picture Waverly, sitting on the couch, her lips pursed and her forehead knitted as she tries to mentally go through what she knows is in Nicole’s closet.

“Wynonna got me a Survivor shirt,” Nicole finally says. “So I’ll wear that.”

“Jeans?”

“Duh.”

Nicole can almost  _ hear _ Waverly roll her eyes. “So isn’t that enough?”

Nicole sighs. “But what if I look like a noob. What if Champ wears his Mr. T jean vest and looks clutch in it and all the girls thinks he’s, like, the best.”

Waverly is quiet for a minute. “Do you want all the girls to think  _ you’re _ the best?”

Nicole feels something like panic building in her chest, rising in her throat and threatening to push up and out of her mouth. “What?” she manages.

“You said…” Waverly trails off. “Uh, nothing. Nevermind.”

The truth is on the tip of Nicole’s tongue. She wants to tell Waverly what she told Wynonna this summer; she wants to tell her what Curtis said and how it made her feel, but she can’t. She opens her mouth, but the words stayed glued to the roof of her mouth and she can’t come up with anything.

“My jean jacket is boring,” she finally says.

Waverly is still quiet. 

“Mercedes has a cool jean jacket,” Nicole continues, her voice shaky. She swallows hard. “It has, like, flowers and beads all over it. Not that I would want that, I mean, but, like…” She trails off and shrugs, self-conscious. 

“I got it,” Waverly says quietly. “You’d wear, like, a Survivor patch.”

Nicole sits up a little. “Or, like, Journey. Or Def Leppard. Or-or Bad Company.”

“What about Rolling Stones?” Waverly asks quietly.

“Sure! I love that song ‘Start Me Up’ and ‘Gimme Shelter’.”

“I got you something,” Waverly says.

Nicole pauses. “You did?”

“It’s not as cool as your shirt, but…” Waverly trails off. “Actually, it’s really small.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” Nicole says. She holds the phone tighter against her ear. “What is it?”

“It’s stupid,” Waverly says. “I’m just going to have Gus return it the next time she goes to-”

“ _ No _ ,” Nicole says. “Just tell me.”

Waverly pauses. “It’s a patch. It’s really nothing fancy,” she rushes on. “It’s just the Rolling Stones logo. The mouth and the tongue sticking out and-”

“You got me a patch?” Nicole asks softly.

“Yeah,” Waverly breathes out. “I can put it on your jean jacket, if you want. Gus taught me how to use a needle and thread and I put a few patches on my backpack.

Nicole is quiet for a second. “Really?”

“I’ll come over, like, right now,” Waverly says quickly. “I just gotta tell Gus, though. So-”

The song changes; it’s quiet enough that Nicole almost doesn’t pick it up, but when she does, she doesn’t recognize the words. “What song is that?” she asks Waverly.

Waverly pauses. “I’ll check.”

The song gets louder as Waverly takes the phone away from her ear.

“ _ Break out of captivity and follow me, stereo jungle child. Love is the kill. You're heart's still wild _ ,” she hears. 

“It’s ‘The Warrior’ by Scandal,” Waverly says as she gets back on the phone. “Why?”

“I like it,” Nicole says.

The song gets louder again; Waverly must have moved closer to the stereo, and she can hear Patty Smyth a little better now.

“ _ Shoot at the walls of heartache; bang, bang. I am the warrior. _ ”

“The warrior,” Nicole repeats, smiling.

“Like you,” Waverly says.

“ _ Well, I am the warrior. And heart to heart you'll win, if you survive, the warrior _ .”

“What?”

“You can be a warrior,” Waverly says. “Then school won’t be so scary.”

“ _ The warrior _ ,” Patty Smyth sings.

_ I could be a warrior _ , Nicole thinks. She learned about King Arthur last year; he was a warrior. And he got the girl, in the end.  _ Maybe… _ Nicole shakes her head. 

“Do you want me to come and put that patch on?” Waverly asks.

“Yes,” Nicole says quickly. “I mean, yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll be over in, like, ten minutes,” Waverly promises, hanging the phone up with a click. 

Nicole hangs up the phone and leans against the wall by the housing, her eyes fluttering closed.

“You okay, honey?”

Nicole jumps. “Oh, Mom.”

Her mom frowns. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Nicole says quickly. She clears her throat and slows herself down. “I mean, totally.”

Her mom narrows her eyes for a moment, studying her face before she shrugs. “If you say so. Waverly okay?”

Nicole nods. “She’s coming over to put some patches on my jean jacket. She found a really cool Rolling Stones lips logo that she says she can stitch onto the sleeve.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Nicole shrugs. “Maybe I’ll turn it into a zipper or something.” She runs her fingers across her mouth. “Get it? Zipper? Because it’s the tongue and the lips?”

“I got it, honey,” her mom says kindly, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. “She just can’t stay too late. It’s a school night, you know.”

Nicole groans. “Don’t remind me.”

 

-

Curtis’s truck rumbles to a stop, idling at the curb to the high school. He shifts it into park and leans across them, looking out the open window at the building. 

_ It looked bigger in my dream _ , Nicole thinks to herself. She exhales slowly. Waverly’s hand lands on her knee, burning through the denim. She picked out her best jeans - the dark blue ones that she only has to roll up once. She’s wearing the Survivor shirt that Wynonna got her under the jean jacket Waverly put the Rolling Stone patch on last night.

“You’re like King Arthur,” Waverly had said. Nicole’s eyes had widened in surprise. “I’m going to learn about him this year,” Waverly continued. “So I already did a lot of reading on him. He had armor and now you do, too. Yours is just made of denim.”

“Last stop, girls,” Curtis says brightly. “First day of high school.”

Wynonna pulls the door handle and lets the heavy truck door swing open. “Later, dweebs.” She slides out of the seat and lands on the sidewalk, stepping away from the truck.

“You got your backpack?” Waverly asks.

Nicole picks it up from the floorboards. Waverly had added a few extra beads to it last night, lugging her bedazzler up into Nicole’s room. Nicole had to stop her from bedazzling her white undershirts, but her backpack came out decent enough.

“Walkman?”

Nicole pats her front pocket. Her walkman is on the outside, the clip on in the inside, securing it. She’s got Survivor’s  _ Premonitions _ in.

“Headphones?”

Nicole pats the pair hanging around her neck.

“Jean jacket?”

Nicole unzips her backpack and pulls it out, shaking it lightly to get some, but not all, of the wrinkles to go away. The Rolling Stones patch Waverly sewed on looks good, stitched onto the right sleeve. 

“You got your-”

“Give the girl a minute,” Curtis scolds gently.

Waverly sighs and looks back at Curtis, scowling softly. “I’m making sure she’s ready.”

“I’m ready,” Nicole says shyly.

Waverly bites down on her bottom lip, worrying her hands in her lap. “Almost,” she says. She looks back at Curtis again “Can I?”

“Go ‘head,” Curtis urges. “Give it to her.”

Waverly grins at Curtis and reaches for the glove compartment.

“Give me what?” Nicole asks.

Waverly pulls something rectangular out of the glove box and closes it in her hands, dropping it in her lap. She sticks her hand out and gestures for something.

“What?”

“Give me the tape,” Waverly commands. “The one in your walkman.”

Nicole blindly opens her walkman, frowning at Waverly. “Why?” she asks, handing the tape over anyway. Her eyes widen. “Are you going to unspool it?”

Waverly rolls her eyes and slowly pulls a new tape out of the unmarked case in her lap. She holds it up for Nicole to see.

“ _ Warrior _ ,” Nicole breathes out. “But…”

“Curtis said you can borrow it for the day.” Waverly slides a little closer, her knee pressing hard into Nicole’s leg. “So you can be brave.”

Nicole turns it over slowly in her hands. “Really?”

“Really,” Curtis says. “For the day, of course.”

“Of course,” Nicole says quickly.

“It’s the first song, so just put it in and press play.” Waverly ducks her head. “Is that okay?”

“It’s  _ clutch _ ,” Nicole breathes out.

“Aces,” Waverly whispers. 

Wynonna pokes her head around the side of the truck. “Are you coming or what, narbo?”

Nicole’s face flushes. “Coming,” she mutters. She slides across the vinyl bench, pausing with her hand on the door. “Thanks,” she breathes.

Waverly smiles widely. “You’ll be killer.  _ Go _ .”

Curtis smiles softly from behind Waverly, nodding towards the school. “Give ‘em hell, girl.”

“Wait,” Waverly says.

Nicole turns back, frowning. “What?”

Waverly slides further along the bench. Her hand presses against Nicole’s thigh again as she pushes up. Her lips are soft against Nicole’s cheek. 

“For luck,” she breathes out.

Nicole blinks and swears that, just for a moment, she sees blue and pink neon lights flash across her eyes.

“T-thanks,” Nicole murmurs, her cheeks burning. She slides out of the truck and winces when her feet hit the pavement. Her ankles ache, but Wynonna grabs her by the arm and tugs her further down the sidewalk, away from the truck.

“Mercedes and the boys are waiting for us by the steps,” she says, hooking her arm through Nicole’s.

Nicole slips her arm out of Wynonna’s and pulls her headphones up onto her ears, slicking her hair behind her ears. She thumbs the power button on her walkman and nods sharply. “Okay,” she says as the opening strands of the “The Warrior” start to filter into her ears. 

“ _ You run, run, run away. It's your heart that you betray. Feeding on your hungry eyes, I bet you're not so civilized _ .”

“High school,” Wynonna breathes out reverently. 

“ _ Well, isn't love primitive - a wild gift that you want to give. Break out of captivity and follow me, stereo jungle child. Love is the kill, you're heart's still wild. _ ”

“Freshman March!” someone shouts.

“Freshman!”

An older kid Nicole thinks she recognizes - Hetty Tate’s brother - nods at her as he shepards her towards the sidewalk where other freshman are being corralled. 

Nicole slips in next to Wynonna, already sweating in her jean jacket. She tightens the strap of her backpack, pushing her walkman further down on her pocket, and looks at Wynonna. She nods sharply.

_ “Shoot at the walls of heartache; bang bang.” _

Nicole slides her thumb over the volume dial, turning it up. Wynonna shoulders her, smiling widely, eyes scanning the front steps, where Doc, Mercedes, Ambrose, and Levi are waiting for them. Nicole pulls her headphones tighter over her ears, blocking out the cheering and the shouting and Champ preening next to her. 

_ “I am the warrior. Well, I am the warrior. And heart to heart you'll win. If you survive, the warrior.”  _

She pauses on the top steps of the building, the freshman class pushing in behind her, and she grins. 

“ _ The warrior _ .”


End file.
